


Face of a Sith Lord

by ether_fanfic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Humor, One Shot, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 12:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ether_fanfic/pseuds/ether_fanfic
Summary: Join the War Effort. Fight the Sith. Be one of the Good Guys.At the tender age of thirty-two, Jas finally did.And even after everything started going totally belly-up, Jas could’ve seen the bright side. He could’ve stayed focused, thought of his old mate Bronn and pasted a smile on his face, Did His Bit For The Galaxy-If only every second fracking person would stop mistaking him for a dead Sith Lord.[KotOR One-shot, Male Revan].





	

 

* * *

~Face of a Sith Lord~

* * *

 

Join the Republic Peace Corps, they said. See The Galaxy while you Keep The Peace. Be one of The Good Guys.

Sixteen year old Jasper stared at the Republic holo-poster with his best friend, Bronn.

“We should join,” Bronn said, nudging him. “Bet the Fleet has hotter babes than here.”

“What do we know about soldiering, Bronn?” Jas asked. Deralia was a farming planet. Wasn’t much to do here, other than grow kassi crops and sneak out to the odd swoop race.

“Not like there’s any war going on.” Bronn shrugged. “Fake it ‘til you make it, Jas. It sure beats hanging around here.”

Bronn was _that_ sort of best friend – the impulsive one, the adventurous one, the troublemaker who somehow dragged steady, biddable Jas into all sorts of hells growing up.

Eight years later, the posters returned. But this time, they spoke of war. Join the Republic War Effort. Fight the Mandalorian Threat. Protect The Galaxy and be one of The Good Guys.

Bronn left, and for the first time in his life, Jas didn’t follow.

Crops grew and died, blonde-haired Jaime always danced out of Jasper’s reach – _although there was that one time, under the fritla-pear tree_ – and Jas never scored higher than second in the Deralian swoop champs.

Every now and then, Bronn would send a data-mail, filled with wild adventures and holo-stills of some hot chick on his arm. _Fake it ‘til you make it, Jas._ Bronn had always been good at that.

The war ended, and another began, and Jas stayed on Deralia. Even blue-eyed Jaime left, this time, to join The Cause. Fight The Sith. Be one of The Good Guys. Jas- he wasn’t ambitious. He did as he was told. Even now, at thirty-two, he was content to scrape together a meagre living on the rural planet.

Maybe it was the news of Bronn’s death that changed things.

The clinical article on the HoloNet said Bronn’s ship was fired on by a Sith destroyer. No survivors, other than some Jedi. Jasper’s eyes stayed dry as he read the details, even as his fingers clenched and his heart stuttered.

He heard Bronn’s voice in his mind.

_Fake it ‘til you make it, Jas._

Jas found another one of those recruitment posters, tacked up in the only cantina his hometown offered. He stared at it that evening, nursing a Deralian hop-beer. Centre stage was a braided Jedi heroine, her young face fierce and righteous, surrounded by Republic troopers all doing The Right Thing.

Jas suddenly thought- _Frack. What am **I** doing?_

The next day, he slung a satchel over his shoulder, and left home.

…

Join The War Effort. Fight The Sith. Be one of The Good Guys.

It hadn’t been too bad. Jas was old for a greenhorn, and he took the ribbing with a smile. He was good at following orders. Food was crap, training was rough- although Jas seemed to pick it up quicker than his sedentary life of sugar-crisps, lazy farming, and half-arsed swoop failures should’ve allowed.

And even after everything started going _totally_ belly-up, Jas could’ve seen the bright side. He could’ve stayed focused, thought of his old mate Bronn and pasted a smile on his face, Did His Bit For The Galaxy-

_If only every second fracking person would stop mistaking him for a dead Sith Lord._

…

Trask Ulgo had been the first- that Jas had noticed, at any rate.

Opposite-shift bunk-mate, so of course they didn’t actually _meet_ until the cruiser was slowly disintegrating into space dust.

“I’m Trask Ulg- whoa!” The man, scarred from a lifetime of battle, was twice as tall and built as Jas. A veteran, obviously, who’d spent far more time in the grav-gym than was strictly necessary. His muscles screamed protein overload. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a dead ringer for Revan?”

“Um,” Jas said, as he shifted away from Trask and stared at him nervously. _Honestly, who says banthacrap like that?_   “Did anyone ever tell _you_ that too many protein bars cause brain rot?”

Trask laughed uneasily. The klaxons blared. “I suppose we’d better get a move on,” Trask said, only sounding a little awkward. His biceps flexed.

“You think?” Jas muttered.

…

It’d been Jasper’s first battle. Tender age of thirty-two, and here he was, rushing through a dying starship, killing all the Bad Guys like a pro. _Hah, Bronn! Check it out! Here I am, faking it just like you!_

But- it happened _again-_

“This fight is too much for us – we better stay back,” Trask warned. “All we’d do is get in the way.”

It hurt Jasper’s infant flutterings of self-pride to admit Trask was correct- the Jedi and the Bad Guy were dancing around each other with their fancy glow-sticks, so incredibly _fast_ that it hurt Jas’s eyes. Unnatural, that was. Also, kinda _awesome-_

There was a pause, when the Bad Guy was facing Jasper. Sickly yellow eyes widened.

“My lor-!” He gasped in shock, an instant before the Jedi’s glow-stick stuck through his chest.

Jas blinked as the Bad Guy groaned and crumpled.  A second later, the cast-plast housing over a console exploded in a shower of sparks. An arc of electricity shot fatally into the Jedi’s chest.

“Damn, we could have used her help!” Trask swore, sounding less concerned about her death than her potential as an ally.

Still, Trask was the vet. Jas kept his mouth shut, and followed the hulking soldier in a desperate hunt for escape.

…

The rest of the flight was a blur. Trask was a shield Jas tried not to cower behind, as he took surprisingly accurate potshots and Trask waded through the enemy like they were bantha fodder. Until they met another Bad Guy.

“Damn – another Dark Jedi!” Trask cursed.

The figure many metres in front of them ignited a double-bladed glow-stick. He seemed to be laughing as he casually strolled forward.

 _That’s a Really Bad Guy,_ Jasper’s mind issued helpfully. _You're fracked._

Trask pushed Jas behind him, behind the hatch that had just opened. “I’ll try to hold him off, you get to the escape pods!”

Jas ran. He tried not to feel like a coward, and failed.

There were more troopers, shooting at him. Jas fired quicker than he’d ever done so in his life, somehow scraping past each enemy with his limbs still intact. But he’d been hit- his shoulder, his leg, his head- a small part of him was shocked that he could keep going on, fighting so hard, with blood pounding through his head and sluicing down his body in rivulets of pain.

Somehow, Jas had expected to crumple at the first sign of danger, and instead he was storming through a sinking starship with nothing but a foreign strength of sheer grit pushing him forward.

At the end of it all, a concerned-looking officer stuffed him into an escape pod, and everything went black.

…

“I’m Carth Onasi,” the Republic Captain told him. Somehow, they’d crash-landed on a planet called Taris, skivvied out of the escape pod, and found a rent-free apartment in the anonymous alien quarter of the sprawling ecumenopolis.

All without Jas waking up. Or the Sith finding them. On a planet they controlled.

Jasper wasn’t sure how the Republic was losing The War, if it had Good Guys as competent as Carth Onasi on their side.

“I’m Jasper. Jas.” Jas pressed his hand against his head where a bacta patch was slowly peeling off.

“Yeah, I read your service records.” Carth was frowning at him. “No surname?”

“We’re not big on family names back on Deralia.” Jas shrugged, and winced as his shoulder stabbed with pain.

“I also saw on your records that you understand a remarkable number of alien languages,” Carth was saying. Jas lost the thread of the conversation after hiccupping over that puzzling detail. Sure, in college he’d learned the basics of Rodese, Twi’leki, Duros… all the Core standards. Didn’t everyone?

“…to need our help.” Carth sounded pretty intense, and Jas realized he hadn’t been paying attention. “She’s going to have half the Sith fleet looking for her. They know how important…”

Jas zoned out again, rubbing at his head. Taris was under Sith control, and the Sith were the Bad Guys. Jas got that much.

“Okay,” Jas said, more to stop the man talking than anything else. He felt a bit woozy. “We need to find a way off Taris, I guess. What do you suggest we do next?”

“While you were out I did some scouting around. There are reports of a couple of escape pods crashing down into the Undercity. That's probably a good place to start,” Carth replied.

 _That_ sounded a bit confusing. Hadn’t they just escaped from an escape pod? Wasn’t that the whole point of them? Did Carth think the escape pods could somehow get them off Taris?

Still, Carth was the commanding officer, and Jas was just a greenhorn. He nodded, amiably enough.

“…if we go and get ourselves killed,” Carth finished. Maybe he’d realized the escape pods was a bonehead move. Carth clapped a friendly hand on Jas’s uninjured side. “Alright, soldier, let’s head out!”

…

“A cantina is a good starting point for information,” Carth told him, as they sat down behind a grubby plasteel table marked in beer rings.

“Sure.” Jas shrugged. He couldn’t help feeling a bit conspicuous, though. Carth had a certain military look about him that even civvies couldn’t shrug off, and the fact that they weren’t even holding drinks was more obvious than a Twi’leki joygirl in a soldier’s mess. “Let me grab us both a beer, though, okay? To blend in.”

Carth nodded. “Good thinking. Hop to it, soldier.”

The bartender was a weary looking Rodian, and it surprised Jas to see a non-Human in these parts. He’d caught the racist undertones in this place well enough. It irked him. Deralia was diverse enough that Jas had never really seen the difference between Human and non-Human.

The Rodian had big black eyes. They widened when Jas walked up to the bar.

“You’re back!” The Rodian gasped. “I knew one day you would be! Let me- let me go get your usual!”

Jas blinked. The Rodian whisked off before he could ask for a beer.

“Um. Okay,” Jas said to nobody in particular.

“Here.” The Rodian was back, sliding what looked like a cut ferracrystal chalice filled to the brim with something golden. “[We haven’t forgotten all you did for our kind. A shame things slipped back to how they were before the Mandalorian Wars. I can only hope you will have the same impact on Taris again].”

The last sentence was said in another language. It was Rodese, Jas realized, but hells, he hadn’t thought he was _that_ fluent-

“Um. How much?”

The Rodian looked at him like _he_ was the crazy one. “On the house. Always, on the house!”

There was a nudge from the side that stopped Jas from answering. A stern-looking woman eyed him over.

“Hi there – hey, you remind me of someone,” she said, frowning.

“Yeah,” Jas said, as he realized the Rodian had disappeared to serve someone else. “I seem to be getting that a bit.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, eyeing over his drink. “Only the finest for you, huh? You do have a certain authoritative air that is quite… appealing.”

Jas blinked again. He was pretty sure no one had ever called him authoritative in his life. _Fake it ‘til you make it, Jas,_ Bronn whispered in his mind. Jas smiled, and the woman smiled back.

The amber drink was strong, stronger than Jas was accustomed to. And so was the woman. Carth, however, didn’t approve.

“You _what?_ ” the Republic Captain exclaimed, long after the woman called Sarna left Jasper confused, aroused, and with an invitation to a _Sith_ party of all things. “You- you- you’ve been chatting up a _Sith_ _officer?_ ”

“She called me _authoritative,_ ” Jasper blurted, like somehow it would explain everything. Maybe the spirits had gone to his head. Hells, Jas only ever drank Deralian hop-beer, and this stuff felt like it was eating the lining of his stomach.

He was still at the bar. At some stage, the Rodian had returned and slid a free drink over to the both of them.

Carth shot him an incredulous look. “You’re rather easily led, aren’t you?”

Jas didn’t think that was fair. Sure, he could follow orders, but it wasn’t like he was easily _manipulated_ , or whatever Carth was trying to imply.

“It might not be a bad idea to go to this party, though,” Carth said slowly, before Jas could think of an appropriate refutation. “We might find a way to get down to the Lower City.”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I was trying to do,” Jas lied. He remembered Carth talking about the Undercity, maybe that was another word for the Lower City. Jas didn’t quite understand, but he thought it must be some convoluted plot that would somehow culminate in them escaping Taris.

Carth frowned, only looking slightly uneasy. “Okay. Just follow my lead, soldier.”

…

The party was… interesting. After a beer or two, Jas found himself slipping into conversation with Sarna as easy as a swoop seat. If only talking to Jaime had been so easy.

Carth’s frowning presence reminded Jas to go light on the local beer, although the Sith didn’t have any compunction about holding back. A few hours later, and all the off-duty soldiers had melted into their cups. Jas hadn’t been able to totally abstain without looking suspicious, and the Tarisian ale sure packed a stronger wallop than Deralian hop-beer – but, still. Jas felt incredibly stone-cold sober.

Maybe that whiskey-like spirit back in the cantina had upped his alcohol tolerance, or something.

The great thing about the Sith was their armour. It was both concealing, and a sure pass to the Lower City. Not to mention, conveniently lying around.

…

 “We should kit up before we go below,” Carth had said- more an order, really, and Jas nodded in agreement. The closest kit-shop was an Emporium run by a ragged-looking Twi’lek.

“A customer? Come in, come in,” she greeted as Carth strode up to her. Her gaze slid to Jasper, and the look of recognition on her face was all too familiar. “You’re back! A million welcomes!”

“Um,” said Jasper. “I’ve never been here before?”

A look of understanding crossed the woman’s face. “[Ah, you’re undercover],” she said in fluent Twi’leki. Jas remembered learning the basics. How to ask directions to the refresher, when the train was coming, was that food poisonous. Somewhere along the line he must’ve learned the word _undercover,_ even if it seemed a bit odd for basic communication. Maybe Bronn had taught it to him. Jas idly recalled Bronn learning Twi’leki chat up lines, right before he shimmied a set of Twi’leki dancing girls _under_ his _covers_.

The Twi’lek nodded at him. “[I can play along. It’s the least I can do to repay you, for how you aided our people all those years ago].”

The Twi’lek, a harried retailer named Janice Nall, suddenly switched to pure business mode and dealt directly with Carth, who was shooting Jasper a suspicious glance. Ten minutes later, and they were loaded with med-pacs, blaster-mods, and ration bars – and a ton of leftover credits. Somehow, Jas had the uneasy feeling that Janice Nall made diddly squat profit on their purchases.

It was starting to get ridiculous, really, the way people seemed to recognize Jas. Sure, in a galaxy of trillions, everyone had look-alikes running around _somewhere._ Though Jasper had the funny feeling that _his_ doppelganger had to be someone famous.

He frowned, all of a sudden remembering what Trask Ulgo had said.

“Carth, do you think Revan ever visited this planet?”

Carth gave him a strange look. “Darth Revan? Hells, I don’t know. To think that I once looked up to him and Malak as the best that humanity had to offer. Now I’d like nothing more than to put a blaster to both their heads. Well, just Malak now, I guess.”

“Who wouldn’t,” Jas muttered, and that had been the end of _that_ conversation.

…

Jas wasn’t an imbecile, for all that was he good at doing what he was told. After Carth had donned the Sith uniform and led them to the Lower City, they’d found another cantina.

Jas scored free booze. Once more, a bartender fell over himself in gratitude before throwing an intestinal scouring purge that masqueraded as a drink his way.

 _“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a dead ringer for Revan?”_   Trask had said, and apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought so. It was all starting to make Jas feel _really_ edgy.

Carth was busy chatting some Twi’lek kid up for information in the corner, so Jas sat quietly, nursing the alcoholic punch to the solar plexus, all the while reminding himself there was a positive to his Jedi-turned-Dark-Lord-look-alike-ness. _Free booze all over Taris. Hells, Bronn would have a field day._

“You,” a short man in a gaudy suit of armour said, walking up to the table Jas was sitting at. Jas looked up, to survey a blue-and-white overgrown dwarf.

Bad Guy! His mind screamed. The fellow might look a tad on the ridiculous side, but his stance and the sheer amount of equipped weaponry was enough for Jas to tense.

“You’re dead,” the almost-dwarf continued. He was wearing thick-rimmed goggles. Somehow, Jas had the feeling his eyes would be round behind them.

“And you’re short,” Jas snapped, in a wholly uncharacteristic manner. Jas was a nice guy. He didn’t say Not Nice things. Especially to Bad Guys.

And yet, some part of him wasn’t afraid. Maybe it was because he felt kinda weird, all full of static, like his skin was pricking from the inside out. Like he knew that despite the competence of this very short man, Jas would be able to take him out in a flash.

The almost-dwarf slipped a hand underneath the plasteel table-top, in a concealed move that Jas _totally_ saw.

“You’ve got a gun aimed at my penis,” Jas drawled, in a fair imitation of Bronn’s cockiness. He _should_ be concerned at the potential end of his bits, those which Bronn had always hassled him for never actually using. But for some reason – maybe because of _Revan’s_ damn whiskey burning in a hole in his gut – Jas found he didn’t give a frack.

“How can you tell?” the stranger snapped.

“Um, your hand’s under the table?” Jas offered. “Unless you’re doing something I _really_ don’t want to know about…”

The almost-dwarf retrieved his hand and slipped the gun away. His posture tensed, like he was suddenly uneasy. “It really _is_ you. I, uh- won’t take up any more of your time.”

Two seconds passed, and the man Jas later found out was the most notorious bounty-hunter on Taris ran out of the cantina like his life depended on it.

…

Somehow, they ended up in Carth’s Undercity. Jas had followed him amiably enough, listened with half an ear as the Republic Captain pulled some deal off with a swoop gang of all things, and now they were here.

Jas didn’t really see how this was going to help them escape Taris, but then that was probably why he was a rookie and Carth the officer.

It was dark. It stank. And, apparently, there were zombies around.

Jas thought he should have felt a lot more scared than he actually was.

“The sewers are this way,” the Twi’lek girl Carth had been conned into helping whispered. She was bright-eyed and impulsive and wholly uninterested in speaking to Jas, but considering Carth was the one who’d puffed up his chest and promised to save her best mate or something, then it made sense she spent all her time talking to him.

 _And Carth says I’m easily manipulated,_ Jas thought. _All a person has to do is look helpless, and Carth goes looking to be a knight in shining armour._

Jas supposed it was an attitude built into Republic soldiers. Certainly, Carth looked like the archetypical Good Guy. Jas wondered idly if Carth had ever posed for one of those military holo-posters Jas and Bronn used to stare at.

They ran into a group of mercenaries led by a tough-looking Mandalorian. Jas recognized him as such because of the armour. _These are the Bad Guys_ , the holo-posters used to say – well, during the last war, anyway. Jas figured since that one was well over, it probably meant they weren’t so Bad anymore.

It occurred to Jas, then, that boxing people in as Good Guys and Bad Guys didn’t make a whole lot of sense if people later just jumped out of their boxes.

“Hm - by looks of you I'd say you're down here for the same reason we are: to salvage something from those downed Republic space pods,” the Mandalorian was saying to Carth, who was trying valiantly to hide the young, pretty Twi’lek behind his back. “Let me give you some advice: forget about it. Do yourself a favour and just head back the way you came.”

Jas could see Carth bristling from metres away.

“Okay, thanks, we’ll keep that in mind!” the Twi’lek said brightly. Perhaps she’d realized Carth was about to say something stupid to a _Mandalorian_ of all things, because that was totally what Jas was realizing.

The Mandalorian’s helm swivelled to face the young Twi’lek, and he said something in Mandalorian. Something about tits and arse. Jas remembered learning a few Mandalorian phrases back in school, like _I’m a slave!,_ and _Don’t shoot me!_ , but he was pretty sure _tits_ and _arse_ hadn’t been in the curriculum. Not unless Bronn had somehow broken into the academic comps and tweaked a few lessons.

It was the sort of thing Bronn would do.

Though, there was one thing Jas was dead certain about, he told himself a few hours later. They had _never_ learned Shyriiwook on Deralia.

“[You have saved me from a life of servitude and slavery],” the Twi’lek’s best friend howled at him. He was big. He was hairy. And Jas totally didn’t understand a word of his garbled language. “[There is only one way I can ever repay such an act: I will swear a lifedebt to you].”

Jas blinked. “I don’t know what he’s saying,” he said helplessly to the Twi’lek girl. “And I didn’t save him, Carth did all the work!”

“Well, you opened the manacles,” the girl Jas thought was called Crusade or something said. “Big Z gets kinda caught up on the details sometimes.”

“[In the presence of you all I swear my lifedebt],” the towering hairball rumbled. Jas stared at him in complete incomprehension, but he knew one thing: he did _not_ want a Wookiee slave.

He must have said so, because Crusade was glaring at him. “Hey – Zaalbar’s not your slave! He just swore a lifedebt to you. It’s not the same thing.” Crusade frowned. “Although, he will kinda do what you say. At least, until you die.”

Jas shot her a look of askance. “Do those he swears life-debts to usually die?”

“Don’t be silly.” Crusade giggled. “Only the last five did.”

…

“Alright,” Carth said, staring at them both. “You and Mission stay here. Don’t leave the apartment. Me and the Wookiee will go bring this swoop part back to the Beks.”

Jas was good at following orders. Mission – _not_ Crusade – was not.

“Carth told us to stay behind,” Jas said worriedly, as the girl began fiddling with an Upper City lock.

“So, stay behind,” she said, throwing a shrug his way. Yeah. Yeah, maybe Jas could’ve, but what sort of creep let a fourteen year old Twi’lek girl run off by herself into the xenophobic Human quarter? Jas, at least, was good with a blaster.

Although with the way Crus…er Mission kept vanishing and disabling anything in her path, Jas was starting to get the feeling that she was a _whole_ lot better than him at everything else.

The locked apartment door slid open under Crusade’s expert hands. An armoured woman inside was aiming a disruptor rifle at them.

“Stop right there, or I’ll give you a blaster shot-” She gasped, staring at Jas, and fumbled her weapon in shock. “Frack, _Rev-_ ”

Crusade’s quick draw on a concealed blaster got the woman straight between the eyes.

“Y’know,” the kid said, as she expertly frisked the warm corpse. “That chick sounded like she knew you, Jas.”

“Yeah,” Jas muttered. “I get that a lot.”

…

Turned out, the armoured woman Crusade had downed was some sort of undercover assassin worth _a lot_ at the bounty office, and suddenly the Twi’lek kid was a whole lot richer.

“I told you to stay put!” Carth yelled at Jas, which was totally unfair.

“[Mission, you always do this!]” the Wookiee complained, not that Jas understood a word.

“I- she- she ran off!” Jas protested.

“Easily led,” Carth muttered under his breath, and Jas debated internally before letting that comment slide.

“Sheesh, settle down everyone,” Crusade said. “Let me shout us all dinner. I can afford it now,” she giggled.

“We have to focus on the swoop race.” Carth was frowning again. He did that a lot. “Jas, I signed you up for it. Your service records said you came second in the Deralian swoop championships three years running.”

“Yeah,” Jas muttered sourly. He’d tried to impress Jaime, but it turned out she wasn’t big on swoops.  “Hang on, swoop race?” That made less sense than the Undercity. “Do these swoops have hyperdrives?”

Because Jas didn’t know how else winning a local swoop championship would get them off Sith-controlled Taris. Maybe Carth needed the prize money-

“Do you even know what’s going on, Jas?” Carth said, sounding incredulous.

“Um…”

“Nevermind. Just win the race, okay? Win the race, and get the prize.”

Jas nodded. He could focus on that. First place on Deralia had been five k creds, and Taris had ten times the population base. The prize was gonna be a gem.

…

 _Whoa!_ Jas could totally imagine what Bronn would say. _Check out that babe!_

Turned out the swoop prize was a _person._ A really, really hot looking female-type Human _person._

_Also, unconscious and a prisoner. It’s ethically inappropriate to think of her as a piece of meat._

Bronn had always been inappropriate.

The swoop announcer claimed she was a captured Republic officer, which suddenly meant Carth’s actions made a lot more sense. Carth was a very definite Good Guy. Of course he’d risk anything to save someone from his own side.

Jas was checking over the custom-built swoop bike some gang had lent Carth, and by proxy, Jas. He supposed he was feeling a little nostalgic, for Bronn had been the one to push Jas into swooping, all those years ago. That was probably why he was hearing Bronn’s voice a lot louder today.

Of course, Bronn being Bronn, he was still leering at the prisoner.

_Think how grateful she’ll be when you rescue her, Jas!_

That was wrong on so many levels. And while the randy youth deep inside Jas could accept, maybe even agree with Bronn’s appreciation of the woman’s more _superficial_ qualities, this was hardly the fracking time to be thinking about it. _Besides, she’s no Jaime._

Bronn’s spectre snorted in his head. _Yeah, but you’ll never score Jaime if you don’t make a fracking move, Jas._

Jaime had gone to join The Cause, too, but Jas had never heard from her. He suspected he didn’t deserve to, after that one time under the fritla-pear tree. Jas had felt too awkward to say anything, and somehow everything had fizzled out afterwards.

He hoped that she’d had a better time of it than Bronn.

Sometimes, Jas missed the old days, when it’d just been him and Bronn, taking on the galaxy. Well, taking on the Deralian kassi-crops, but still. It was the camaraderie Jas missed.

Jas sighed, turned on the swoop, winced at the slightly unstable sound of the accelerator, and began to race.

…

He came second. Again.

Second prize was a bundle of creds, but no hot woman. No woman who was Carth Onasi’s ally against the Bad Guys.

Jas totally didn’t want to tell Carth the bad news.

Turned out he didn’t have to. One of the swoop gangs started a fight, and somehow, before Jas even had a clue what was going on, the entire pit lane was filled with blasters and grenades and flailing limbs.

Well, it wasn’t a fight _Jas_ had started, and he had no idea who the Good Guys were anymore. He hid behind a broken swoop, and was overcome with an idle desire for one of Revan’s foul whiskey drinks.

When the grenades stopped exploding and the blasters stopped firing, Jas cautiously peeked out from behind the swoop chassis he’d taken as cover. The only sentient still standing, unbelievably, was the hot prisoner.

She was out of her cage and wielding a double-bladed vibro-sword, while glaring fiercely around the blood-splattered room.

“Well, maybe those bloody Vulkars will think twice before trying to keep a Jedi prisoner!” she scolded the empty room. Somehow, the curse word sounded awfully awkward when enunciated in such a prim tone.

Jedi. _Whoa._ Carth Onasi’s actions made _even more_ sense now. Jas supposed he should probably start paying closer attention… to, well, _everything,_ really.

He stood up slowly, brandishing his empty hands to show his lack of being any sort of threat whatsoever.

The woman caught the movement, and spun around quickly to face him.

Her fierce expression slid off her face quicker than a dress slid off a noblewoman out on a date with Bronn.

“You!” she gasped, face paling in shock.

And Jas thought: _this is getting old._

“I know, I’m a dead ringer for Revan,” Jas muttered in irritation. Although, he told himself, a _Jedi_ of all people might have a reason to be concerned at the sudden spectre of the old Dark Lord. “Don’t worry, I’m just a farmer-turned-soldier who happens to bear a passing resemblance to him. I’m not dangerous in the slightest.”

“Oh.” The woman looked at a loss for words. She blinked about four times, opened her mouth and closed it again.

“Um.” Jas felt completely awkward. “I’m travelling with Carth Onasi. He-”

“Carth Onasi is alive?” the woman gushed, sounding overcome with relief. “Finally, some good news! Carth is one of the Republic’s best soldiers. He’s proved himself a hero a dozen times over! Take me to him at once.”

…

With the way the Jedi had been gushing over Carth, Jas had wondered if there was something between the two of them.

He scratched that idea pretty quickly.

“You mean you don’t have a plan to get off Taris yet?” the Jedi snapped at Carth. Her name was Bastila Shan, Jas found out. It sounded familiar, although Jas couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why. “What have you been doing all this time?”

Carth started critiquing her leadership skills, and Jas quickly got bored. He wandered over to Crusade, who was busy rifling through a backpack. Jas had the funny feeling it was Carth’s.

“Hey, I saw your swoop time, Jas! That wasn’t bad for a newcomer,” Crusade said, shooting him an impish grin.

Jas smiled back, and thought he probably should get to know the girl a bit better. Especially since she seemed to be a package deal with the Wookiee, who’d taken to following Jas around like a bad smell. And he did smell, too, like wet kath hound that had rolled in a swamp. “Thanks, Crusade.”

The girl scowled. “My name’s Mission,” she snapped.

“Sorry,” Jas muttered to the girl who wasn’t called Crusade. “I’m kinda bad at names.”

She glared angrily at him before turning away, and Jas felt damnably awkward again. So, for lack of anything else to do, he started shamelessly listening in to the other conversation again. It seemed to be going smoother – now that they had switched to gossiping about _him._

“He’s got the makings of a fine soldier,” Carth said, in an undertone that was about as subtle as a ferracrete brick. He probably thought his voice was a weak whisper, but it came through loud and clear to Jas. “Jasper is good at following orders. Perhaps a little easily led, though.”

Bastila blinked. She looked both surprised and gratified, even from across the other side of the apartment.

Jas wasn’t sure what to think about that. It _sounded_ like a compliment, but then part of him wanted to point out that _Carth_ had been the one running around trying to rescue _Wookiees_ because a Twi’lek kid was upset.

Bastila had spotted him staring. She sent Jas a smile that looked a bit forced, and motioned him forward.

Jas did as he was bid.

“The vision we shared when we first met…” Bastila began, hitching her shoulders. “I do not like to talk of it, but I suppose you must have some questions.”

Jas blinked. “Huh?”

An impatient look crossed Bastila’s pretty face. Jas supposed he should stop thinking of her like that, now that she was a high-and-mighty Jedi. “The vision,” she forced out. “Of me fighting a Dark Jedi. I am sure you must have seen it too… I sensed it through our b- I mean, through the Force.”

Jas shrugged. “The last Dark Jedi I saw was the one on the Republic cruiser. He was laughing. He seemed like a bit of a jerk.”

Bastila looked slightly taken aback. “Alright. I suppose I can respect your wish for privacy. But do know I am here, should you wish to talk about anything.”

If Bronn was here, he’d totally take her up on that. _Talk about the weather, talk about the birds, talk about going out for dinner…_ Jasper just smiled, and it felt only a little uneasy. He suggested, then, checking out a cantina, with the proviso that it was _for information,_ so the hot Jedi could take it any way she wished.

To be perfectly honest, Jas wasn’t even sure which way he _wanted_ her to take it. Bastila seemed as uncomfortable as him, really, and every now and then she even looked a little scared.

 _Well, she’s young. And half the people on this planet are trying to capture her. Of course she’s scared, bonehead._ Give Carth an hour or so to get over the ‘no plan off Taris’ crack, and Jas reckoned he’d be opening doors for her and shooting anyone who looked at her twice.

Bastila took Jas’s suggestion in a perfunctory way, made it her own, and swept half the crew towards the cantina.

…

Sometimes, Jas felt like he didn’t have a fracking clue what was going on. While he sat nursing another free fiery enema of death, somehow Bastila and Carth had concocted up a scheme with a Mandalorian merc to break into a Sith base.

Which was crazy, because Jas was pretty damn sure they were trying to get _away_ from the Sith.

Both Carth and Bastila told Jas he needed to be part of the infiltration team, due to his skill with a blaster. Jas was only glad they agreed with each other, because he was starting to feel conflicted on whose authority trumped whose.

Jas was a Republic soldier, and Carth was his commanding officer.

But Bastila kept going on about this mission being one from the Jedi Council, which put _her_ in charge.

Kinda a weird mission, though, unless the Jedi had somehow foreseen they would end up crash-landing here. Which begged the question of _why_ they let it happen in the first place.

Jas decided to stop thinking about it, and simply follow the orders he was given.

“Hey – you can’t come in here!” the Sith base receptionist complained, even though they totally just did. “This is a restrict-” She gasped, as she finally spotted Jas in Bastila’s shadow. She dropped to her knees in shock. Or maybe it was self-preservation. “My lord! You’ve returned!” she effused, her voice muffled from being behind the poraclay desk.

“What?” Carth snapped, turning on Jas with a confused look that two seconds later transformed into a highly suspicious look.

Jas groaned. “It turns out,” he began in a stage whisper, “that I happen to look like a certain Jedi-turned-Dark-Lord who visited Taris some years back. You have _no_ idea how irritating it is getting.”

Bastila dropped her head into one hand, and her shoulders sagged. Carth looked stunned, but still suspicious.

“Come on, Carth,” Jas complained. “We live in a galaxy of trillions. Do you know how many doubles _you_ have, somewhere out there?”

After that, Carth just looked worried. Jas supposed it was an improvement.

Of course, the Sith base would have a Dark-Jedi-type-Bad-Guy. But that was fine, because Jas and Carth now had their own super-special Jedi to thwart such dangers.

Until she got her ass stasis’d. Just like Carth the non-Jedi, but unlike Jas, the totally-non-Jedi.

“Who dares to break my meditation?” the black-robed figure roared. Jas was beginning to realize that all Dark Jedi dressed the same. It was a bit drab, really. “…wait.” The Bad Guy paused, staring at Jas. “I sense the Force is strong with you. Very strong.”

The guy didn’t even have a glow-stick, so he was obviously a novice. This explained why he was mixing Jas up with Bastila’s Force sense-power-signature-whatever. But, Jas did have one thing going for him-

“Wait for it,” Jas murmured over his shoulder to the stasis’d Bastila and Carth.

“My lord Revan!” the guy with no fashion sense gasped. He fell to one knee, just like the receptionist. “You are alive!”

His head bowed, and that must have broken Bastila out from the stasis, for she came flying in unnaturally fast and beheaded the Bad Guy before Jas could blink.

“Ew,” Jas said, staring at the bloodied head as it toppled to the ground.

Carth was frowning at Jas. “I don’t like this,” he muttered. He looked suspicious again. Or maybe it was uneasy. Jas couldn’t tell. Maybe Carth was just feeling constipated.

“You don’t like what? That I look like Revan?” Jas shrugged. “I’m not a big fan either, to be honest. Though you have to admit it’s got its uses.”

Bastila was pale, and looked uptight, with her lips pursed shut like a prim schoolmarm. Although, it did seem to be a common expression on her.

…

It didn’t take long, after that, for them to find a way off Taris. Jas supposed it was because of travelling with a Jedi and a Republic-Officer-warhero-type, because somehow they found themselves on a blindingly quick freighter shooting into the sky, just as the Sith decided to turn completely insane and bomb the planet.

The Wookiee was still shadowing Jas, so he tagged along, and so did the Twi’lek. Better than them getting melted by the plasma, Jas figured.

Jas had totally forgotten the girl’s name again, but felt like too much of a berk to ask. He knew it was some weird Basic word, like Journey? Pilgrimage? Quest? The last one, he thought. That sounded about right.

Somehow, they’d acquired an astromech droid – Jas thought it must have come with the ship, as a repair-type proviso. They’d also acquired a Mandalorian. Funny how Jas kept running into them. This was the third one he’d seen on Taris. He had to keep reminding himself that they weren’t Bad Guys anymore.

From the way Carth kept glaring at the guy, Jas thought he might be feeling the same way.

Still, the Mandalorian named Canderous Ordo was vaguely amusing, even if he didn’t seem to think much of Jas.

Jasper knew he was an average sorta guy. Middling height, crack shot with a blaster but a shite farmer, second-best at swooping, and apparently terrible with names. The type of fella you’d overlook in a crowd if he didn’t look uncannily like-

Canderous liked to talk about Revan, as it turned out. A lot.

“Revan should have been a Mando’ade,” Canderous enthused, after bending Jas’s ear for an hour regarding some willing Mando babe in a basilisk. “He knew how to have a good time. A regular sex god, he was. Very popular with the Fett clan, or so the rumours say.”

That made Jasper feel more than a little uncomfortable, seeing as he’d never passed third base with Jaime, but was apparently the spitting image of a ladies-man-Jedi-turned-Dark-Lord.

Still, they were headed to a rural farming planet called Dantooine. The destination confused Jas, as he thought they were going to re-join the War Effort – but then he also knew that Bastila Shan and Carth Onasi understood a lot more about the War Effort than a rookie soldier like him.

Dantooine sounded nice. It was remote, like Deralia. It was a farming colony, like Deralia. It was sparsely populated, just like Deralia.

 _Not_ the sort of planet a Dark Lord would be interested in visiting, so Jas was confident there would be no more cases of mistaken identity.

Upon landing, as Jas stared in exasperation at the secret Jedi Enclave, he told himself once again that he really needed to start paying better attention to what was going on.

He sighed, as Bastila walked passed him towards the Enclave’s doors. “Revan trained here, didn’t he?”

He heard an intake of breath. "How did you know? Did you remember some- I-I mean," she stuttered, flushing, "did you have another vision?"

“What?” Jas blinked. “Uh, no. Let’s just call it an educated guess.”

…

Well, at least Jas didn’t have to worry about the Jedi being interested in _him._ They only cared about the Force, not about people’s faces.

“Um,” Jas said some hours later, blinking at the half-circle of Jedi Masters who were all staring at him like he was some sort of freakshow exhibition. “I’m what?”

They’d introduced themselves, and Jas had totally forgotten their names. There was the grumpy one, the nice one, the green one, and the Journal-Guy or something. Jas couldn’t keep track of it all.

“Bastila tells us you are strong in the Force,” Master Nice repeated. “We are considering you for Jedi Training.”

Jas stared at Bastila. She didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed.

“You do realize that just because I look like Revan doesn’t mean I actually _am_ him, right?” Jas said slowly.

Master Grumpy scowled. The Journal-Guy flinched. Master Nice looked worried. And the short, green one gave a raspy chuckle.

“Master Zhar speaks out of turn, perhaps,” Master Grumpy grumped. He continued on for a bit, but Jas was focused on glaring at Bastila, who finally began to look a little sheepish. The Jedi were awesome, and the Force looked like so much _fun,_ but Jas was feeling more than a little railroaded into this. Particularly since he was about as Force-sensitive as a wet sponge.

He was good at following orders, but _hells-_ this seemed a little too much.

“…and I have already related to you the events that took place on Taris,” Bastila was saying, seemingly in defense of Jas’s supposed Force-sensitivity.

“Carth is the reason we found you, Bastila.” Jas frowned. “Carth is the one who helped you get off Taris. Have you considered that maybe he’s the Force-sensitive, and you’re just getting us mixed up because of my face?”

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “And no. Carth Onasi has as much Force sensitivity as a wet sponge.”

“Um.” Jas scratched his head. “Okay. Is this an order?”

Bastila sighed noisily, turning back to the Jedi Masters. “I honestly didn’t think Rev-“

“We should discuss this matter more fully in private,” Master Green interrupted. Probably, he’d realized how incredibly wrong Bastila had gotten everything. “Bastila, you and your companion must go. This is a matter for the council alone.”

Bastila gave an elaborate bow. Jas thought he might make an arse out of himself if he did the same, so he just slowly stepped backwards until he tripped over the door ledge and fell flat on his back.

Bastila stood over him. “How is it possible that you-” Her lips pursed, and she looked vaguely disappointed. “Come. Let us return to the ship.”

Somehow, Jas didn’t think he’d be scoring an afternoon with her under a fritla-pear tree any day soon.

…

Jas figured that’d be the end of that. Bastila Shan, it turned out, was a lowly padawan, and obviously not equipped to recognize the Force voodoo in people.

But he wasn’t sure why she had to start inventing shared _visions-_

“….claims you and she have shared a dream, a vision of Malak and Revan in the ancient ruins here on Dantooine,” Master Green said, staring up at Jas through bright blue eyes.

“Er, what?” Jas felt strangely uncomfortable. Everyone knew how close Malak and Revan had been before Malak had turned on Revan. Some said they were like brothers, others said more like lovers. With the way Canderous went on about Revan’s sex-god-like-ness, Jas really didn’t want to know. “Bastila’s had a dream? About Revan and Malak? Er, Bastila, are you sure you want to be telling everyone about it? Some things are priv-”

“You cannot keep quiet about our visions any longer, Jasper,” Bastila said. Her voice was level and calm, like she was trying _really_ hard to contain herself. Her eyes were tight and sparking with irritation. “This no longer affects merely you and me.”

“These ruins have long been known to us, but we believed them to be merely burial mounds,” Master Journal-Guy added. “Perhaps they are more than we first suspected, if Revan and Malak found something there.”

Jas frowned. Exactly what sort of dreams was Bastila having, and why was she trying to implicate _him?_ “I don’t know what Bastila is talking about!”

“See?” Master Grumpy seethed. “Dishonesty! We are taking an incalculable risk in even considering training this one!”

“Training?” Jas squeaked. “I thought we’d all kinda agreed this was a bad idea- I know we didn’t actually say it, but the implication was there-”

“Jasper,” Bastila said. She looked frustrated again. ”You cannot deny what you are. These dreams are part of you. The Force is part of you, though a part you cannot yet control. But through training and discipline we can teach you to live as one with the Force.”

It sounded a bit like an order. Kinda. Jas wasn’t sure if he could wiggle out of it, not when Bastila was staring at him so intently, her red lips pursed and her chocolate eyes frowning.

There was more waffling then, between them all, while Jas merely spent the time in deep confusion. At one stage, Master Grumpy even had the nerve to call _Jas_ wilful and headstrong, when it was totally _Bastila_ trying to teach a wet sponge magical tricks.

Jas had signed up to be a Fleet soldier, not a Jedi. _Fake it ‘til you make it, Jas._ In Jasper’s mind, he could see Bronn throw him a carefree grin. Hells, Bronn would’ve _loved_ this.

But even if Bronn was still alive, _he_ wouldn’t be hampered with the face of a dead Sith Lord. Jas had the itchy feeling that training to be a Jedi might make his own Revan-confusions even more confusing.

…

With Revan in mind, Jas took to hiding in the freighter whenever Bastila wasn’t dragging him back to the Enclave for more Jedi Training. Which seemed to consist mostly of meditation and poetry recital.

Jas was good at the first, he’d always found it easy to close his eyes and empty his mind. There were plenty of meditation rooms with plenty of young Jedi apprentices, so Jas always had company while he sat and thought of nothing.

The younglings were all very good at lifting things with the magical power of their mind. Sometimes, they were so good that they were shocked by the sheer amount of things swirling around in the air. It all reminded Jas of what a complete con he was, sitting amongst them and pretending to be one of them.

Poetry was a drag. Jas hadn’t picked _that_ to be a big thing amongst the Jedi, but it was. He found it all incredibly dull, particularly since Master Journal-Guy – the one who was training Jas – seemed to have his one favourite and made Jas repeat it over and over until the damn thing echoed in his head.

Bit like college, really, when Jas’s class got the dry, boring classic to study in Basic, while Bronn’s had the hip new novel instead.

Jas did get to duel with Bastila, though. That was fun. He’d figured out by then that she was apparently famous, and had a really special psychic ability that made her quite powerful with the psychic-spiritual-Force-side of things. Apparently, she’d used her ability a lot in the War Effort against the Sith, so Jasper figured she must have spent all her time concentrating on the psychic-spiritual-Force-side of things, and none on the duelling-physical-Force-side of things.

It would explain why he kept kicking her arse so readily, because Jas had never picked up a vibrosword in his life. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him how she’d cleared out the Taris swoop pit-lane so readily.

Canderous and Quest had taken to exploring Dantooine, which meant the Wookiee had taken to following Quest. It seemed the Wookiee was torn between shadowing Jas (his life-debt), or shadowing Quest (his best mate), but couldn’t actually get past the Enclave’s front gate.

Jas wondered if there was a bit of xenophobia on Dantooine as well, seeing as the Jedi Enclave had no problem letting a non-Force sensitive Human like Jas through (let alone training him!), but closed the door on the Wookiee. Didn’t seem fair, really.

Still, the three of them seemed dead keen on getting away from the ship. Maybe it had something to do with Carth’s dark mutterings about loops. Jas had wondered if _Loops_ was a lover’s nickname for Bastila or something – what, with her loopily braided hair and all – but then Carth wasn’t exactly sounding the most affectionate.

Frankly, Jas was beginning to think Carth and Bastila Had Issues.

In contrast to the others, Jas himself was dead keen on _hiding_ in the ship. There’d just been too many times someone had thought he was Revan- and hells, he didn’t want that to happen on _Dantooine,_ secret Jedi hiding place and peaceful Republic world.

Sooner or later he’d run into someone Revan had truly pissed off.

Not to mention that Dantooine reminded him so much of Deralia it was beginning to become a little disconcerting. Fritla-pear trees were everywhere. Every farm seemed to consist of kassi crops. The most popular snack food with the locals were sugar-crisps.

It was getting beyond weird.

So, every time some sort of mission cropped up, Jas happily delegated it to the others, and Canderous happily accepted.

There were Mandalorians and kath hounds, there was a horny droid (Jas backed out of _that_ conversation super-quick), and there was some sort of secret romance between two Dantooine nobles that turned Quest into a mushy pile of romantic teenage girl.

“Did you _have_ to kill ‘em, Canderous?” Quest sobbed. “They were _in love_ and everyone was _against_ them.”

“Ah, tragic love stories.” Canderous sighed wistfully. “Better it ended this way, kid. Divorce and old age are messy.”

“Jasper,” Bastila snapped, cutting through the crew camaraderie that Jas was just starting to enjoy. “You are avoiding your next training objective. You know you must head out of the ship and investigate the tainted grove, and yet you have been wasting your time hiding away in here.”

“I was busy cleaning my blaster!” Jas protested, even though it was a total lie. “The first thing they taught us in Fleet training was always ensure your weapon is appropriately maintained!”

“Clean your blaster?” Canderous leered. “Is that what you Republic grunts call it?”

Carth snorted. “I’ve never seen you clean that thing since we met, Jasper. I’m surprised the thermal battery isn’t shot by now.”

“Jasper, we are heading out _right now,_ ” Bastila said through gritted teeth. “That is an _order._ ”

 _Dammit._ Jas sighed, and did as he was bid.

Besides, he told himself, it might give him a chance to check out those crystal caves. Master Journal-Guy had told him he couldn’t construct a lightsaber until he’d chosen a colour, and Jas wasn’t very good with choices. He hoped he could find a crystal in that cave, and put the colour down to luck rather than actually having to pick one himself.

(Also, he hoped that non-Force sensitives could wield Jedi glow-sticks without chopping their limbs off. Jas had always thought it was a Force-only kinda weapon).

…

“Pink.” Jas blinked, staring at the glow-stick he’d crafted together with the cave crystal he’d tripped over, all while running away from a deranged half-cat. At least he’d managed to knock her out and deposit her back at the Enclave, since there didn’t seem to be any actual prisons or catteries on this planet.

Hopefully the Jedi would be able to rehome her, or declaw her, or something. Jas had the feeling she’d actually been trying to _kill_ him.

But, now that he was back in the Enclave, he was focused on the brightly fluorescent glow-stick held in his grasp. Somehow, he was feeling strongly unsettled.

“Pink is a sign of masculinity amongst the Mando’ade,” Canderous said. Jas wasn’t exactly sure how Canderous had vaulted the walls of the Enclave, but he’d come across the Mandalorian engaged in a brawl with a youngster earlier. If Canderous wasn’t talking about sex, he was busy punching someone. Sometimes, Jas thought he was nothing more than a walking stereotype. “Revan was rumoured to have a pink lightsaber, you know.”

“Ha ha,” Jas laughed uneasily. “Ha ha ha,” he said again, when Canderous didn’t seem to be joining in. “Oh, _frack._ Um, Master Journal-Guy-”

“It is Master Dorak,” the dark-skinned Human said calmly. “And, yes?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I’d like the blue one, please.”

Turned out, none of the blue crystals Dorak had in stock worked with the damn thing. The Jedi Master said custom crafted hilts could be a little _picky_ that way, refuse to respond to crystals they didn’t approve of.

Jas was starting to feel sulky, even though he told himself he was far too old to sulk. It was just that- Jedi glow-sticks were _awesome,_ and Jas had been looking forward to getting one, and hoping like hells he wouldn’t injure himself even looking at it– and now it felt like damned, dead Revan had crapped all over that, too.

…

“Why are we still here?” Canderous asked, nudging Jas as he wrinkled his nose at the smell of burnt droid.

There were a lot of burnt droids in these ruins, at least after Canderous and Bastila had wiped them all out. Jasper had tried throwing his fancy new glow-stick at one, only to almost behead Bastila. He stuck to his blaster after that.

“Bastila had some kinky dream about Revan and Malak,” Jasper hissed in a low voice, quiet enough so she wouldn’t be able to overhear. “I think maybe they were here, uh, doing something kink-”

“I did _not_ have a _dream_ like _that!_ ” Bastila screeched, and Jas kicked himself for forgetting about the super-Jedi-hearing-power thing. Although, she did look kinda cute with her face all outraged and scrunched up like a kinrath pup’s. “ _We_ had a _shared vision_ of Revan and Malak entering _these_ ruins!”

Jas and Canderous shared a male look about the complexity of women, while Bastila huffed angrily and turned back to the glowing intergalactic map of stars she had just discovered.

…

“The Council has a mission for you, Padawan,” Master Green rasped.

Jas wasn’t sure when they’d started calling him _padawan_. Master Journal-Guy had been getting frustrated at Jasper’s inability to recite his favourite poem, and Jasper had the feeling that had been kinda a deal breaker.

“Okay,” Jas said, amiably enough. Hopefully, it’d be another thing he could delegate onto Canderous.

“The Star Map in the ruins showed you four planets, but it was incomplete,” Master Green said. “It did not show the location of the Star Forge itself. We believe there may be similar Star Maps on the other planets.”

Jas got that they were talking about Bastila’s glowing map that her kinky dream had led her to, but he had the feeling he might be missing some of the more subtle nuances. And he didn’t really get why they weren’t addressing Bastila about this.

Jas stared at Bastila. She gave him a firm nod of encouragement- more like an order, really.

“I am ready to do the Council’s will,” Jas said, when the masters finally stopped talking and looked at him in expectation. He figured Bastila would tell him what to do later.

…

Turned out, Jas had agreed to more than he expected, he realized with bemusement as the freighter left Dantooine. Still, they were on their way to other planets. Other non-secret-Jedi planets. Jas thought he might be able to stop hiding in the ship now. Taris had _obviously_ been an aberration.

The Cathar ( _not_ half-cat) had snuck onboard, making Jas wonder if she was still homeless. She seemed determined to blame Jas for the state of her mind – and, after all, Jas remembered she’d had a hefty blow to the head. Back in the crystal cave, he’d seen her crashing backwards into the rocky walls, like she’d completely cocked up a Force leap and went the wrong way.

Yeah. Turned out the not-half-cat (she got snarly when Jas accidentally called her one) was a Force-user just like Bastila.

Bastila was determined to make Jas decide on which planet to go to next, but completely vetoed him when he picked Corellia or Nar Shaddaa. It was only after he mumbled Tatooine – a joke, really, who’d voluntarily go traipsing into the desert? – that she let Carth input the hyperspace coordinates, and off they flew.

…

Still, Tatooine. It had a few small towns on its hot surface. Before signing up to the Republic, Jas had never even left Deralia. Bronn would tell him to look on the bright side, to go have some fun, to find a hot babe-

Jas rather thought he might find himself a drink, first.

The hyperspace journey had been a bit long and tedious, but Bastila had cornered him enough times that in between lectures Jas had figured out they were after more of these glowing blue maps. Star Maps, Bastila had called them. They pointed to some Star Factory that Bastila wanted to blow up.

For the War Effort.

Jas was glad they were getting back to the War Effort, because all the faffing about with the Jedi on Dantooine had been making him feel like a fraud, especially when he considered the military oath he’d made upon signing up to the Republic Fleet.

Tatooine had one of these Star Maps. So did Kashyyyk, Korriban and Manaan. If Bastila kept making him pick the next planets, he was gonna do the rest in alphabetical order.

Choices made Jasper uneasy, these days.

…

“The Force has given us another vision,” Bastila said, as Jas was trying to leave their ship. “Like the one we shared on Dantooine.”

“Um.” Jas frowned at her. “I don’t remember my dreams. And I don’t understand why you keep thinking I would be seeing yours.”

Bastila sighed noisily. “There is a Force bond between us, Jasper. I do wish you would stop denying it. The Force is strong with us both.”

Jas tried to smile at that, and failed.

“The Star Map in our vision… it looked like it was inside some kind of cave,” Bastila said. “Tatooine is known for little but blowing sand. I find it surprising that there would be a Star Map somewhere in its desolate wastes.”

“Maybe we should, uh, check out a cantina for some information?”

Bastila threw him a suspicious look, and Jas tried his best to look innocent. But he really felt like a drink, and Tatooine seemed nicely anonymous. Besides, cantinas were one-stop shops for information.

…

Cantinas were one-stop shops for free drinks, too- at least if you looked like Revan.

Unlike the hero-worship Jas experienced on Taris, however, the Ithorian barkeep here kept cowering in a corner and pleading for his life. He only came near whenever Jas looked close to polishing off a drink, and that was only to refill it before running back to his corner.

Jas sighed, and took another swig of the fiery whiskey. There were four full glasses in front of him, now.

“We have to go after my brother,” Quest insisted, her face set with a mulish pout.

“It sounds dangerous,” Canderous said, grabbing Jasper’s drink and totally finishing it without asking. The Mandalorian motioned the petrified barkeep back over. “It sounds fun.”

“Does your brother have a weird name like you, too?” Jas asked.

“What?” Quest frowned. “His name is Griff. And he’s a sleemo, but he’s my sleemo brother.”

“[We will not forsake your brother],” Zaalbar howled, even though Jas totally didn’t understand a word.

“That hunter spoke of unrest amongst the native animals of Tatooine due to this krayt dragon,” Bastila interjected. “I believe that sounds like a potential lead. What do you think, Jas?”

Jasper blinked at her, and then turned to stare at Carth. They were both looking at him in expectation, rather that telling him what to do. Still, Bastila thought the krayt dragon was a lead-

“Well, why don’t some of us follow Bastila?” Jas suggested. “While Quest and the others go after her brother?”

“What?” Quest snapped. “What did you just call me?”

“Uh-“ Jas realized, about a split second before the Twi’lek picked up his two full drinks and threw them into his face, that he _really_ should have double-checked things a little earlier.

…

Revan’s favourite drink _burned_ when it was thrown into your eyeballs.

“Mission,” Carth said wearily. “Her name is Mission. You’ve only been traveling with her for weeks, now.”

“And my name is Juhani, in case you have forgotten,” the Cathar added, staring warily at Jas. “You _do_ recall our meeting on Dantooine, I hope?”

“Yes!” Jas blurted out, even though he didn’t think he’d _ever_ heard her name. “You kept chasing me through the crystal caves trying to kill me-”

“You- you redeemed me.” Juhani frowned. “You spoke of the Force and the Light Side-”

“I was just trying to get you to stop chasing after me-”

“You are a peculiar man, Jasper.” Juhani pursed her furry lips, and the prim look reminded Jasper of a feline version of Bastila. Who was standing behind Juhani, also frowning. “Your blasé attitude to matters can appear callous, at times, although perhaps there is a lesson in it to take life a little less seriously.”

“Okay,” Jas said, even though he wasn’t, really. “Shall we go after this dragon, then?”

…

Turned out, Bastila’s instincts were spot-on, at least when it came to finding shiny Star Maps. Here was the second one she’d led Jas straight to, all because of her dreams. (Which Jasper was _fairly_ sure weren’t kinky in the slightest, but wasn’t going to give up teasing her about it when she blushed so profusely).

Bastila had enlisted the aid of a local hunter, who’d set mines to take down a mighty (and supposedly Force-tainted, but Jas had to trust Bastila’s word on that) krayt dragon.

All they had to do was lure the beast out. And Bastila made _him_ do it.

It didn’t seem right, really. Jas was pretty sure he’d seen Bastila use the Force to make herself go faster – and he _knew_ Juhani could run really fast, he’d only escaped her in the caves because of all the twists and turns-

Jas probably should have protested louder at Bastila’s insistence, but maybe he was just a sucker for a pretty face – or, maybe, it was the way she kept telling him it was another fracking order.

Still, it all worked out okay. And in its lair-

“Another Star Map,” Bastila murmured with pride. “Another lead to the Star Forge, and the end of Malak.”

Jasper supposed it was a mighty quest they were on, really. This Star Factory that Bastila’s maps led to was the super-secret weapon of Darth Malak, Ultimate Bad Guy Leader of the Bad Guys. Bastila believed that by discovering and destroying it, they might actually help win The War.

It seemed a big goal. A _tremendously huge_ goal. Jas didn’t get why the Jedi hadn’t sent more allies with them… Hells, even just one fracking master. Bastila was only a padawan, and Jas was only a pretend-padawan. He wasn’t even sure what Juhani was.

Sure, Carth and Canderous and Zaalbar were tough, and the Twi’lek kid was good at picking locks and throwing booze- but it seemed a pretty lightweight team, for what might actually be the fate of the galaxy, here.

“Okay, if you’ve got everything you need,” Jas began. “Shall we head back to the others?”

“You remember their names, right?” Carth said, grinning at him. His smile dropped a second later. “Hang on. Do you remember _my_ name?”

“Yes!” Jas snapped. “I’m bad with names, not a braindead zombie!”

“Could have fooled me,” Bastila murmured under her breath, and if she wasn’t technically his superior, Jas would’ve totally snapped at her, too.

“It’s Mission, okay?” Jas told Carth, ignoring Bastila. “I don’t forget Corellian whiskey when it’s thrown into my eyeballs.”

That, at least, made Carth grin again.

…

Other than the frightened barkeep, no one else had recognized Jas which gratified him. They only had to wait for the others to return, and they could leave this planet – job done, in speedy fashion.

It took hours before Mission, Canderous and Zaalbar returned. With a droid.

A combat droid. With a scary voice.

“Commentary: I am... experiencing something unusual with my programming…” it intoned, while stepping creepily towards Jas.

Jas backed away, conveniently into Bastila. “Um,” he said, after Bastila pushed him into the side of the ship. “Mission, why did you buy a droid?”

“Well, turned out he could speak to the Sand People who had my brother.” Mission shrugged. “He’s kinda a mean droid, though.”

“Observation: My programming is activating my deleted memory core.” The blood-red droid looked like he was talking to Jasper. Jas wasn’t sure if his colour was due to a poor paint scheme or actual real blood. “I believe I have a... a homing system that is restoring it, master.”

“Mission, does that droid call everyone master?” Jas asked. He was glad the kid didn’t hold grudges; she’d seemed to have entirely forgotten about The Eyeball Whiskey Incident. Jas hadn’t. His eyeballs still hurt when he blinked. “And did you find your sleemo brother?”

Mission scowled. “Yeah, but it turns out he’s a sleemo.”

“Statement: I have returned to you, and my full functionality is now under your personal command,” the droid continued. It took another step closer to Jas. “It is a distinct pleasure to see you again, master.”

“Um, Mission?” Jas squeaked in desperation.

The girl sighed. “HK, stop harassing Jas and shut down.”

For some strange reason, it totally didn’t. It kept walking towards Jas. Mission frowned. “HK, stop moving and shut down!” she ordered.

Jas had no idea why he was feeling so freaked out. The droid – although pretty competent looking – wasn’t actually _threatening_ Jasper or anything. But whenever it said the word _master,_ Jas felt like it was paying homage to him or something.

“Listen to your owner and shut down!” Jas gasped.

The crimson eyes died and the droid slumped over.

“Okay,” Mission said, looking puzzled. “That was really weird.”

Jas nodded in agreement, a little vigorously. “Can we, uh, leave him behind?”

…

“Which planet shall we travel to next?” Bastila prompted. Jas was starting to get the irritating feeling that she was determined to push him into leadership – which was just _weird._ (Sometimes, in his darker thoughts, he thought it was all about his face. Revan had been a great leader, once. And Jas couldn’t help but wonder what Bastila’s true thoughts on the Jedi-turned-Dark-Lord _really_ were).

“Kashyyyk,” Jasper said in a firm voice, like he had a real motive for his choice other than the Basic Alphabet. A shame he hadn’t thought of that before Tatooine, because it really messed up his logical order of things.

…

Kashyyyk was very… green. Tatooine was hot, and Kashyyyk was green. Jas wondered if it was time for him to read a thesaurus.

Zaalbar had kicked up quite a ruckus when they’d landed – of course, Jas didn’t understand a word of it, which meant he had no idea why Zaalbar was suddenly held prisoner by his brother, nor did he notice when the Wookiee chieftain totally recognized him.

Which was a good thing, because it probably would’ve irritated Jas by now.

Somehow, he found himself traversing down to the depths of the overgrown forest with Bastila and Canderous at his side. It would’ve been fine, had Canderous not continually been nudging him to make a move on the Jedi.

“Jedi are meant to be _celibate,_ Canderous!” Jas hissed for about the fifth time, as Bastila pointedly ignored them both and scythed a way through a pack of katarn.

Canderous stopped to take a single potshot, before throwing a leering grin at Jas. “Didn’t stop ole Revan with the Fett chicks, though, did it? And from everything I heard, Malak was just as bad.”

“Yeah, but they were the Bad Guys, Canderous. _Not_ exactly the shining example of Jedi-ness.” Jas frowned, thinking Jedi-ness probably wasn’t a word.

“I dunno, Jas, the stories I heard were from when they were still Jedi.”

Jas might have thrown something pithy in response, if they hadn’t all been caught unawares by an old man. Who appeared to be wearing something made entirely of leaves. And glaring at them all as if they’d just interrupted his solitude.

Which, Jas thought as he stared at the dozen animal corpses surrounding Bastila, might actually be true. Considering Jas had pretty much left Bastila to do all the footwork around here – which she’d done without breaking a sweat – he was once again surprised at how easily he kept beating her back on Dantooine.

Suddenly, he was highly suspicious if she’d merely play-acted defeat to boost his self-confidence.

“Heh,” the old man said, staring at Jas with a speculative look in his eyes. “You again.”

Jas groaned. He supposed it was too much to ask that Kashyyyk was remote enough that no one would recognize Revan’s face, but seeing as Bastila had told him these Star Maps had apparently been visited by Revan in the past-

She’d gone on about another _vision,_ too. Canderous reckoned she was trying to lure him into the sack, but Jas wasn’t getting that vibe, what with all the frustrated stares and disappointed huffs.

“I’m not him,” Jas said, for about the hundredth time. “I’m just an ordinary farmer-turned-soldier-”

“-turned-padawan-” Bastila hissed.

“-padawan, _maybe,_ who happens to look a lot like…” Jas trailed off when the old man didn’t look convinced. “Fine. Whatever. We’re after a Star Map. Do you happen to know where one of those could be?”

The old man raised a questioning eyebrow at Bastila, who merely sighed and dropped her head into her hands.

…

Turned out the old man – named Jolee Bindo, and Jas repeated it at least six times in his head to stop any recurrence of The Eyeball Whiskey Incident – _did_ know. After a bit of hoop-jumping which included more slaughtering than Jolee approved of but at least kept Canderous happy, they were well on their way to their next objective.

This one had a computer guarding access to Bastila’s Star Map.

And, again, Bastila once more prodded Jas into doing everything. Maybe she was feeling sore about the pack of katarn he’d totally ignored.

Jas wished she hadn’t pushed him forward, though. He’d warned her he’d just get the stupid computer’s questions all wrong, but she insisted.

He _tried,_ he really did- all of those aimless questions, he ignored his gut reaction and thought: What would Bastila say?

Turned out, imaginary-Bastila-in-his-head was shite at answering computer quizzes. He should have asked imaginary-Bronn.

Jas scowled at the broken husks of burnt droid that surrounded them all. “Well,” he muttered. “At least we have the Star Map.”

…

Somehow, they started a Wookiee rebellion. It had something to do with the half-wild Wookiee that Jolee Bindo claimed was a friendly type, even while the overgrown hairball was threatening the lot of them.

Jas knew the Wookiee was Zaalbar’s dad, but only because of the family resemblance, not because of any conversation which he totally didn’t understand.

“[You have a habit of traversing through our Shadowlands],” the old Wookiee growled incomprehensibly. He gestured something, and Jas had the horrible feeling the Wookiee had met Revan before.

What were the chances? Humans probably all looked the same to Wookiees, anyway.

Canderous was having a field day, taking the lead and attacking anything that looked remotely like a threat. Jas had tried to tell him that the tach were harmless, but Canderous claimed they would breed like the plague if even one managed to sneak onboard their ship.

Jas hoped Mission kept her pet gizka safely hidden, otherwise he wouldn’t be the only one with mildly scarred eyeballs in the near future.

…

With Bastila on their team, and Jolee Bindo – who _also_ turned out to be a Force-user – they made pretty quick work of the Bad Wookiees keeping Zaalbar captive. Jas was having a really hard time sorting out the Bad Wookiees from the Good Wookiees, so was content to let the others have at ‘em – all the while inwardly hoping that Canderous wouldn’t shoot at the wrong overgrown hairball.

Sometimes, the Mandalorian showed a little more zeal than was strictly necessary.

Jolee Bindo was quick to point out that he was _neither_ a Jedi _nor_ a Dark Jedi, which completely confused Bastila- but Jas, on the other hand, found highly interesting. It was like Jolee had created himself a completely separate third box painted in grey to sit in.

Jas thought it was intriguing, all things considered. _Probably means you don’t have to kill everything in sight, but you don’t have to stay celibate, either._ Although, somehow, Jas didn’t think staying in the Shadowlands would’ve seen Jolee much action.

In truth, the sex side of things wasn’t _really_ what Jas was thinking about, no matter what Canderous or imaginary-Bronn kept saying. The idea of not being put on a pedestal, not rigorously holding to that damn Jedi poem, not always debating about the state of one’s soul, was kinda appealing. Bastila seemed to think the only path other than hers was the Bad Guy one, but Jolee Bindo didn’t agree.

Jas was glad Jolee was coming along, even if the old man came across as a little senile, what with the way he kept staring at Jas and chuckling to himself.

…

“Korriban,” Bastila murmured, staring at Jas in speculation. “Are you certain this is the best planet to visit next?”

“Yes.” Jas nodded firmly. “I have reasons. Um.” He had a feeling that the Basic Alphabet might not win Bastila’s approval. “The Force is leading me there.”

“Oh.” Bastila looked mildly appeased. “Well. We must be wary of the Dark Side then.”

“It is a Dark planet,” Juhani whispered. “We must all be on our guard.”

“I shall not be able to leave the ship once we land,” Bastila informed Jas. “The chance of me being recognized is too great.”

“Um,” Jas said, giving her a pointed look.

She sighed. “This is _our_ mission, Jasper, whether you admit it or not. One of us must travel to Korriban’s surface, and if I am recognized it is certain to lead to capture. If you are… well. Everyone believes you are dead. They may not believe what their eyes see.”

“ _He_ is dead,” Jas muttered. “Just because I _look_ like him-”

“Okay,” she said in frustration. “Nevertheless, even if someone _does_ recognize you- him- whatever, it may work to your advantage on Korriban.”

“But-” Jas didn’t even know what he wanted to complain about. It was just- he’d become _used_ to Bastila telling him what was going on. “Bastila, I need you to tell me what to do!”

“I know,” she muttered, looking disappointed again. “That is why I am sending Juhani and Carth with you.”

Juhani was a Jedi, and Carth was (technically? Jas didn’t know) still Jasper’s superior, so maybe, Jas thought, it’d be okay.

It wasn’t.

“The Dark Side is strong here,” Juhani whispered, staring warily into every corner.

“I’m sure I recognized that kid,” Carth muttered. “But it _can’t_ be. It just _can’t._ ”

“Guys,” Jas complained. “You’re supposed to be my _slaves._ You need to act more _slave-_ like.”

“Slavery is an abhorrent practice,” Juhani hissed.

“Sorry, _master._ ” Carth rolled his eyes.

…

Korriban had a lot of Bad Guys. Jas kept noticing an itchy feeling between his shoulder blades that made him want to run back to the ship and delegate.

“No, Canderous _cannot_ join the Academy in your stead,” Bastila snapped. “They only accept Force-sensitives, and he is about as Force-sensitive as a wet-”

“Okay, well what about Juhani?” Jas interrupted.

The Cathar was sitting in the corner, muttering to herself about the lures of the Dark Side.

“She should stay behind, now. I do not believe she is ready for such a trial,” Bastila said delicately. “And do not even _think_ of suggesting Jolee Bindo. His… flexibilities surrounding the Jedi Code-”

“Okay, okay, but I don’t know what to do!” Jas complained.

Bastila sighed, and rested a warm hand on his shoulder. “Jasper. Have faith in the Force. It will lead you to the Star Map, I am certain. And if you still doubt, then just think…” She frowned. “You are following Revan’s path, before he fell to the Dark Side. Perhaps, all you need to do is ask yourself what _he_ would do.”

…

What would _Revan_ do? It was a scary question. _Revan, before he fell, bonehead._ Okay, Jas could maybe work with that.

When one nasty-sounding Sith asked Jas for advice on disciplining some cowed students, Jas suggested he go to the cantina instead, and have a Corellian whiskey rather than wasting any more time on them.

When another - a rather hot-looking blonde - asked Jas what he thought about… something, he wasn’t sure, maybe it was her outfit- he told her that the whiskey in Dreshdae was pretty good, and was only mildly surprised when she meekly wandered off, eyes glazed.

Carth started shooting him suspicious glares again.

A third, then, got in a screaming match with Carth about the War destroying families, and Jas reckoned Revan would totally intervene and tell them to settle their differences over whiskey-

 _Maybe Revan’s secret power was Corellian whiskey,_ Jas thought, slightly confused at the mass exodus of everyone headed towards the only cantina on Korriban.

…

Still, it left the Academy pretty empty- at least, apart from one old, bald guy that totally recognized Jas.

_What would Revan-before-he-fell do?_

“My lord,” the Human intoned. He bowed, rather than kneeling. Jas had the itchy feeling he might be someone important. Judging by the dark robes and the red glow-stick, Jas didn’t think Revan-before-he-fell would cut it.

“Lead me to the Star Map,” Jas snapped, trying to sound like Revan-after-he-fell, all Dark Lord-ish and Sithy. “Now, before I… er… do something Bad.”

Of course, Bad Guys being Bad Guys, the bald Human totally turned on Jas when they entered the tomb. This could’ve turned out _really_ bad for Jas, had this hot Twi’lek not turned up and started attacking the bald Human.

Jas left them to it, and snuck out to the back of the cave.

…

“You did it,” Bastila breathed. She looked surprised. Actually, she looked downright disbelieving. “You actually found the Star Map by yourself.”

“Um, yeah.” Jas shuffled his feet. He was still uneasy over pretending to be Revan-after-he-fell. “But I only did what you told me to do.”

“Theeee… whishkeee, ish… ish not bahhd…”

“I found this one face-planted in the cantina,” Canderous drawled, dragging a stumbling Carth onto the ship. “Think you Republic lot are crap at holding your liquor.”

“He’sh alivee…” Carth slurred. “An’ an’ gonna help hish friendsh….”

Bastila sniffed. “Honestly, Carth, I thought better of you than to drink whilst on duty.”

Jas felt uncomfortable, almost as if it were his fault.

…

Leaving Korriban wasn’t so easy, however. Two hours into hyperspace, and some Sith bastards totally interdicted their arses.

“I’m getting a bit sick of the Sith,” Jas muttered, glaring at the heavy cruiser through the cockpit window.

“Jasper,” Bastila said, her tone somewhat hesitant. “We must think of a way to escape. Maybe the Sith do not know how many of us there are onboard. We all have special talents; talents we could exploit so that one of us could stage a rescue.”

Jas frowned. “Bastila, I don’t think now is the time for you to pretend I have leadership skills-”

Bastila sighed noisily. “Jasper, you found the Korriban Star Map all by yourself-”

“Only by pretending-”

“Pick someone!” Bastila seethed. “Listen to the Force! Figure out who has the best chance to avoid capture so that they can come and rescue the rest of us!”

Jas would’ve totally turned to Carth for help, but he was still in a drunken stupor. Jas sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Everyone, try to avoid capture.”

That made sense, right? Jas was sure it did. So he couldn't work out why Bastila was still glaring at him in bitter disappointment.

…

Waking up in a torture cage was not one of Jas’s favourite ways to wake up.

Seeing Bastila half-naked next to him would’ve made up for it, had she not been in a separate torture cage.

Carth was in another one, also half-naked, which made Jas wonder about the kinkiness of their Sith captors. At least the sedation drugs had knocked the hangover clean out of the Republic Captain’s system, though.

“Saul,” Carth said bitterly to the grey man working the torture machine. Jas thought it was a bit weird to be on a first name basis with one’s torturer; but then, judging by the way Carth had started yelling at that Sith trainee kid earlier, Carth apparently Had Issues.

The torturer seemed less interested in Carth, and more interested in Jas- which Jas found strange at first, given that the famous Bastila Shan was right next to him in her underclothes.

Until Jas totally got it-

“Ah, hells,” Jas muttered, after the man started asking him the location of the Jedi Enclave. “You think I’m Revan too, don’t you?”

The torturer blinked. “Um… that was not an answer.”

“Do you know how many people are alive in the galaxy?” Jas demanded.

Bastila groaned, although it may have been the after-effects of the last bout of torture.

“Trillions!” Jas exclaimed. “Do you know how many could foreseeably look like Revan?”

The torturer sent Bastila an enquiring look, but she merely shook her head in despair.

…

“I really wish you had not answered all of his questions,” Bastila said quietly, some time later.

“Oh, come on,” Jas said, groaning a little as his muscles twitched in pain. “You know I’m no good at tests!”

“Jasper, you _answered_ all of his questions _correctly_!”

“Yeah, but-“ Jas frowned. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted Bastila tortured – which he _hadn’t_ – but it seemed to him that weakening the strongest Jedi in their party just by refusing to answer bonehead questions was a bit… bonehead, really. “Come on, like they didn’t know where the Jedi Enclave was. _Revan and Malak_ studied there! And the Star Maps… _Revan and Malak_ had already found them! What else would we be after?”

Bastila sighed. She didn’t even sound disappointed anymore, just sad. “You should have chosen one crew member to aid us, Jasper. I fear that we are all doomed, now.”

A minute later, when Mission, Jolee, Juhani, Canderous and some astromech droid Jas had never seen before rolled into the room, Jas found it _really_ hard to bite back a retort about faith and the Force.

…

As far as Jas was concerned, it was time to head back to their ship. For some reason, Carth was pretty insistent the docking bay was directly through the bridge.

Now, Jas would be the first to admit that Carth Onasi knew more about starships than Jasper, but somehow he had the unerring feeling that Carth had Ulterior Motives.

But when Carth stood over the dying corpse of their torturer-turned-Admiral, Jas found he couldn’t really blame him for the detour. That torturer-turned-Admiral had been a bit of a jerk.

“What?” Carth snapped, staring at the dying man on the ground.

“Just kill him, Carth,” Jas suggested. “It’s kinda cruel to let the man suffer, even if he is a Bad Guy.”

“It can’t be true,” Carth muttered, spinning around to stare at Bastila. “Bastila - it's true, isn't it? And... and you knew!”

“Carth, it’s not what you think-”

“Guys,” Jas interrupted, staring at the torturer-turned-Admiral as he coughed up blood on the durasteel floor. Jerk or not, prolonging his death seemed a bit on the mean side. The Bad Guy side. “Can we just kill him and go?”

“So make me understand!” Carth demanded, and Jas began to wonder if they were having some sort of lover’s tiff. Maybe _that_ was why Bastila was so uninterested in Jas-

“Please,” Bastila pleaded, staring earnestly at Carth. “We had no other choice! There’s no time-“

Jas sighed, somehow grabbed Carth’s blaster out of mid-air, and shot the poor dying man in the head. It wasn’t Jas’s finest hour, maybe, but it totally shut the two of them up.

“We’re leaving,” Jas snapped. He wasn’t exactly acting like himself, but those two were meant to be the leaders, the ones who got the crew out of sticky situations, _not_ the ones who started squabbling like a married couple onboard an enemy cruiser-

Jas spun on his heel, left the bridge, and expected them to follow.

They did, which turned out to be a good thing once Jas realized he had no idea which way to go.

…

After retrieving Zaalbar (their one crew member who _hadn’t_ managed to shuck his manacles despite the fabled Wookiee strength), the entire crew was running like mad through the Heavy-Cruiser-Full-Of-Bad-Guys.

Jas was just starting to think they might actually escape when-

“Revan.”

Suddenly, Jas felt cold. He thought it might have something to do with the black-clothed figure striding towards them. He had a chrome jaw, and Jas couldn’t stop staring at it.

 _That’s Darth Malak,_ his mind issued helpfully. _You’re fracked._

“Is it vengeance you seek at this reunion?” the Dark Lord asked, his voice almost teasing.

 _Vengeance?_ The confusion took all of two seconds to dissipate.

“What, you too?” Jasper snapped. “Seriously? What are you, a bantha-brain? You do realize, that in a galaxy of trillions, there’s probably thousands of Revan look-alikes, right? I mean, hells, apart from your shining jaw, you could be a doppelganger for-” Jas frowned.

Darth Chrome-Jaw looked slightly nonplussed. “You mean, you don’t know who you are?” he spluttered.

Jas reminded himself that here was the Leader Of All The Bad Guys, and that Jas should probably be all sorts of scared. It felt hard to muster up the fear, though, especially when the jackass started laughing through a mechanized voder.

“Ha ha ha!”

“Perhaps,” Bastila began somewhat delicately, “the Jedi may have programmed Revan a little _too_ well-”

Jas turned a hot glare on Bastila. “Bastila, don’t you start _-_ ”

“Silence!” Darth Malak stopped laughing. Maybe he’d heard that laughing villains were hard to take seriously. “Revan, recognize that you were once the Dark Lord. And know that I have taken your place!”

Jas groaned in disbelief. “You do remember firing on Revan’s ship, right?” he prompted. _Honestly, this is banthacrap._ “What, are you admitting that you’re just as bad a shot as all of your troopers-”

Darth Malak snarled, Bastila intervened, and then somehow Jas and Carth were left behind a sealed durasteel door running for their lives-

…

Jas felt really bad for leaving Bastila behind.

Carth, on the other hand, was a bit caught up on the details Jas had thought they’d sorted out all the way back on fracking _Taris-_

“Okay, seriously?” Jas glared at Carth. “You seriously believe Malak’s banthacrap? How _many_ times have you heard someone call me Revan?”

“Saul said it. Bastila _confirmed_ it.” Carth looked both angry and tenacious, like a kath hound growling over a bone. “Why else would the Jedi train you?”

“Because I’m Force-sensitive?” Jas said in incredulity, even though he still wasn't convinced on that detail. “Come on, Carth, do you know how many people there are in the galaxy? Freaking _trillions._ How many out there do you think bear a passing resemblance to Revan?”

Carth frowned. “But Bastila-”

“Yeah, did you ever think that maybe she was trying to mess with ole Malak’s mind? Come on, you know me! I can’t be bothered to clean my blaster, let alone take over the fracking galaxy!”

“He may have a point,” Juhani said slowly. “I met the Human Revan once. Although Jasper looks similar to him, he is nothing the same in character-”

“[All Humans look alike],” Zaalbar howled. All Jasper heard was an indistinct howl. “[I do not understand what the problem is].”

"You think this is some Jedi plot to confuse the Sith?" Carth asked. He looked part incredulous, part thoughtful. "Seriously? That's pretty diabolical for the Jedi."

“And wiping a Sith Lord’s mind to turn him into a puppet isn’t?” Jas snapped.

“Well, I don’t buy it,” Canderous drawled. “Revan was seven feet tall. He had babes falling at his feet. Jas couldn’t even steal a kiss from Bastila-”

“Hey!” Jas squawked.

“I don’t believe it either,” Mission piped up. “And besides, _everyone_ knows Revan was a woman.”

Jolee Bindo just laughed, knocked back another caffa, and kept staring at Jas as if he were the most amusing thing in the galaxy.

…

“If we want to get Bastila back,” Jas said slowly. “The only thing we can do is keep going with the mission.”

Part of him wanted to head back to Dantooine and ask the Jedi Masters. Part of him wanted Carth to lead, like back on Taris. _All_ of him wanted Bastila out of Malak’s slimy, Dark-Sithy clutches.

“We’re going to Manaan,” Jas said, and no one else said a word against it.

…

Manaan was expensive to dock on, but at least it was peaceful. And neutral.

Neither a Sith world, nor a Jedi or Republic world. Hopefully, that meant Revan had barely shown his face here.

“Okay,” Jas said, trying to act like a leader. Without Bastila, this was _hard._ “We have to somehow find this Star Map.” He frowned. “Revan did it once before. So, I guess, we need to ask ourselves: what would Revan do?”

“Get laid,” Canderous deadpanned.

“Take over the galaxy,” Carth muttered.

“[I do not know this Revan you speak of],” Zaalbar rumbled, and Jas wished Mission would start translating his language, because otherwise one of these days he’d be forced into learning Shyriiwook.

Mission sniggered. “She’d totally kick ass until someone told her where the Map was.”

“Trust in the Force,” Juhani murmured. “And that, too, is what you must do, Jasper.”

Jolee just chuckled and said nothing.

…

Whatever Revan would do, Jas was pretty sure it didn’t include getting landed in court.

Okay, maybe it was _kinda_ Jasper’s fault for blasting through a Sith base, but the Republic commander had all but _begged_ him, and the Sith were the Bad Guys, right?

Jolee Bindo had tagged along with him, and had this annoying habit of constantly harassing Jas to use his bright pink glow-stick. Which Jas didn’t, seeing as how the trusty Republic blaster hadn’t let him down yet.

Jolee Bindo also had this annoying habit of making Jas see the Bad Guys as sents with potential good in them, and vice versa. It might have had something to do with that _other_ convoluted court case regarding Jolee’s good friend, who’d been a good guy, but had done something bad-

Actually, Jas was pretty confused over the details. These days, he was pretty confused over everything. Sometimes, he felt like all he wanted to do was disappear somewhere, maybe Outer Rim, maybe even further-

Jas sighed, and focused once more on the Selkath arbiter. At least they had a Basic translator here, because it hurt his ears to hear all that slithering Selkath language. Selkath was a Core language, right? He must have learned it back in college, along with Twi’leki and Rodese-

Jas couldn’t remember. Sticking with Basic was easier.

“What is your explanation for being in the Sith Embassy?” the translator spoke over the Selkath guard.

 _Fake it ‘til you make it, Jas,_ imaginary-Bronn suggested.

“I am Darth Revan,” Jas snapped, suddenly frustrated with the whole debacle. “The Sith Empire belongs to me, and any Sith who refuse to acknowledge my leadership will feel my wrath. This is beyond the jurisdiction of the Selkath.”

 _That_ caused a stir. The angry Sith witness who’d been waiting in the courtyard suddenly yelped in terror, and ran from the room. There was an hour or so of loud yelling – which Jas _totally_ ignored – before an emissary from the Sith base came back and confirmed all the rubbish Jas had said earlier.

“Okay,” Jas said, shrugging at Jolee as they left the court as free men. “That went well, I thought.”

…

Jas had no idea where the Star Map was on this planet without Bastila to guide him, so he figured he may as well keep doing what the Republic Commander kept telling him to, seeing as no one else felt like ordering him about anymore.

This meant traveling down to the watery depths of the ocean.

Juhani flat-out refused to go anywhere near water, which made Jas wonder about half-cats again (but he wasn’t stupid enough to voice it).

Canderous and Jolee were the only two who seemed remotely interested; so down they went, equipped in a tin boat that Jas had serious misgivings about.

The secret Republic base on the floor of the ocean was kinda fracked when they got there. Systems shorting out, dead bodies, crazed researchers-

What Jas totally _didn’t_ expect, was an apprentice from Darth Malak to meet him there. Seemed a kinda strange place, really. Jas didn’t get why he hadn’t just waited for them topside.

“At last, my search is over!” the pale man in the black robe enthused. He held a bright red glow-stick. “I was beginning to fear someone else had killed you and deprived me of the pleasure.”

“You’re not going to tell me this Bad Guy has some Good in him, are you?” Jas whispered in an aside to Jolee.

“What?” the old man said. “Eh… nah. Not unless you give him a brain injury and wipe his mind.” Jolee brightened. “That’d be an interesting experiment. Maybe we should try it?”

“Okaaaay,” Jas said, stepping away from the crazy old man and looking back to the Bad Guy.

“You are no match for me!” the Dark Jedi continued. Jas wondered if he was going to break into a monologue. “I have studied at the foot of the Dark Lord himself!”

“Which one?” Jas muttered. “Uh, hang on- you recognize me, right?”

The Dark Jedi blinked. “Er-”

Jas waited.

The Dark Jedi blinked again, before brightening. “Ah! Yes, I saw you on the _Endar Spire,_ cowering behind a Republic soldier. Why Lord Malak sent the likes of _me_ after you I don’t know, but I am sure your death will entertain me nonetheless!”

“Really? That’s it?” Jas frowned, and turned his head. “What about my profile? Does it seem at all familiar?”

The Dark Jedi shrugged. He was beginning to look a little bored.

“It’s just that, everyone around the galaxy keeps thinking I’m Revan,” Jas moaned. “I would’ve thought someone who’d, apparently, studied at the foot of the Dark Lord – which doesn’t sound very comfortable, you know – would at least have _some_ familiarity with the face of _Revan-_ “

“Revan is dead!” the man snarled. “And so are you! I shall make this both quick and painful!”

Jolee and Canderous decided to turn traitor, then, and totally made Jas do everything. Which would’ve been fine, had the Bad Guy not kept deflecting his blaster bolts and Force throwing his grenades back to him.

Jolee sighed heavily, at one point. “Use your lightsaber, Jas.”

“You're a fool if you think you can defeat me!” the Bad Guy monologued, giving Jas a total opening to shoot him in the back.

Somehow, Jas ended up smashing against the wall of the base instead.

“Ugh,” he groaned.

“I’d help you out, Jas, but I think you might need the practice,” Canderous hollered, while cowering in the adjacent room.

The Dark Jedi sauntered closer with his red glow-stick brandished. “You are weak and pathetic. I shall enjoy this-“

Jas raised an arm – as if a weak, fleshy limb made a decent shield against a fracking _plasma_ beam – but somehow the Dark Jedi ended up flying backwards across the room, encased in a bright white ball of Dark Side lightning.

Jas blinked, getting to his feet. _Wow, did the Bad Guy just totally frack up his own Force powers?_ Jas wasn’t sure. But what he did know was that the Bad Guy was in no shape to Force throw Jas’s grenades back to him-

…

Frag grenades were loud. And messy. And Jasper’s ears kept ringing for hours later, even when he found himself wandering out in the ocean, wearing nothing but a thin film of strengthened plasteel to protect him from watery death.

Wielding nothing but a noise-maker to scare away sharks larger than the sub that’d got them down here in the first place.

Jas thought this was a Bad Idea, and turning tail back into the base was a Good Idea. But then, he also knew that wasn't what _Revan_ would do.

Jas wasn't sure how sensible it was to keep doing what Revan would do. But he _did_ want to rescue Bastila and Save The Galaxy – and he kinda thought that ole Jasper from Deralia might not be quite up to the task.

So he sighed, and took another step.

It didn’t even surprise him when another bunch of steps led him to the last Star Map.

…

There was another court case, when they finally got topside. Jas was getting sick of them, and apparently the arbiters were sick of _him,_ for it didn’t take them long to throw him out on the streets with a warning to leave Manaan within the day.

Which meant there was plenty of time for a free drink.

Jas took another swig of Revan’s usual, a clear single-malt Corellian whiskey. For the first time, he didn’t wish it was a Deralian hop-beer. Jas realized that, at times, it felt more natural to _pretend_ to be Revan, slayer of Good Guys and Bad Guys alike, rather than his own humble self.

That made sense, though. Who didn’t, deep down, wish they were powerful and famous?

…

They had all the Star Maps, now. That meant-

Jasper stared at the mysterious Unknown Planet. It was one of those tranquil, untouched places that made you feel like you'd been there before.

The Star Factory orbited lazily above them.

There were some weird alien creatures that kept talking to Jas when they weren’t trying to kill him, and Jas was surprised that he could understand them – until he realized the language was ancient Selkath and he’d apparently picked Selkath up quite well back in college.

At the end of it, they had to enter some temple to get to the Star Factory up above the planet, even though Jas hadn’t quite worked out why Carth hadn’t just docked their ship there in the first place.

Turned out to be a good thing, though, because on the roof of the Temple was Bastila.

“Revan,” Bastila said. Jas was pleased to see she was well away from Malak, but couldn’t help notice that her yellow glow-stick had turned red. And while Jasper was well familiar with wanting to change one’s glow-stick colour, it hadn’t escaped him that all the Bad Guys exclusively used red. “I knew you’d come for me.”

“Bastila, err-” Jas kept staring at her glow-stick. Red seemed _wrong._ “I think yellow suits you better?”

“You are a sad little fool, Revan,” she snapped. “The Jedi Council has brainwashed you like all the others. Except in your case, they seem to have brain-bleached and brain-scoured you as well.”

“I dunno, Bastila,” Jas muttered, scratching his head. “You’re the one who keeps calling me Revan. And brainwashing kinda sounds more like Malak’s sort of thing.” He frowned, as it occurred to him that he’d last seen Bastila weeks ago, and maybe Malak actually _had_ brainwashed her in the intervening time. “You _do_ remember that I’m just a farmer-turned-soldier who happens to bear a passing resem-”

“Enough!” Bastila sneered. It didn’t look pretty on her. “You can deny what you are, Revan, but you are only fooling yourself. I know the truth. I have seen the shadows inside your mind. Well.” She pursed her lips. “What is left of it.”

Malak _had_ brainwashed her, Jas realized.

“You’ve sworn allegiance to Darth Malak and Sith, haven’t you?” he said slowly.

Bastila shook her head. She looked sad. “A pity the power you once had is so diluted in you. You could have been as strong as I am… stronger, even. But that will never happen, now. With the power of the Star Forge Malak will destroy the Republic and conquer the galaxy. And I will be the apprentice at his side - after I prove my worth by killing you!”

Bastila launched herself through the air with the power of the Force. Jas had a sudden flashback to all their Dantooine training spars, and thought that if she’d been going easy on him then, then he might be kinda fracked-

Good thing he kept the stupid pink glow-stick handy.

 _Fake it ‘til you make it, Jas._ Jas thought that might be good advice, and tried to fight how Revan might’ve, once upon a time.

There was a pause, amidst the clashing of glow-sticks.

“Through our shared visions,” Bastila panted. “I felt the so-called taint within you. I resisted it at first-”

“They aren’t visions, Bastila!” Jas cried. “I don’t know what you keep seeing, but I think you might need help-”

She snarled, and they fought some more.

It was a bit like coming home, Jas realized, as he slid into lightsaber forms he’d practiced back at the Enclave. Some, even, he barely had any memory of learning, but weeks of training had a tendency to blur into one long montage of half-forgotten images.

“You deserve to be the true Master of the Sith, not Malak,” Bastila gasped, during another break in their combat. Jas thought she was looking terribly exhausted, and then kicked himself. _Of course she does, if Malak has been brainwashing her all this time. Bad Guys aren’t exactly known for their hospitality._ “Join with me and reclaim your lost identity!”

“You don’t want to be a Bad Guy, Jas,” Jolee warned, now all too familiar with Jasper and his boxes. “Follow down Bastila’s path, and you’ll become a Bad Guy.”

Jas was a little surprised to see both Jolee and Juhani behind him as he thought he’d entered the Temple alone. It would’ve been nice if they’d helped a little earlier, before Jas’d had to beat Bastila up all by himself.

He stared at Bastila in suspicion, and wondered if she was pretending defeat again. It seemed a bit hard to believe, with the amount of hits he’d landed. _No, she’s just crap at combat. Padawan, remember?_

“Bastila, it is not too late for you to be saved. The teachings of the Jedi can-” Juhani began.

“You are beneath my contempt, Juhani!” Bastila hissed, cutting the Cathar’s sermon off and turning back to Jas with a pissy, commanding look. “Revan, I _order_ you to come with me.”

“Um,” Jas began, scrunching his face up. He found that he _really_ didn’t want to turn all pale and Sithy like Bastila. And if she was now a self-proclaimed Dark Jedi, that meant she was no longer his commanding officer—right? Not to mention that taking over the galaxy- well. It sounded like a _lot_ of work. “No?” he hazarded.

Bastila actually looked proud. “I _knew_ Revan was in you, somewhere.” She sighed, and the proud look fled. “But even so, you are still little more than a pathetic fool. I wish you could join me and taste true power once again. Sadly, I doubt you are even capable any longer.”

She took a deep breath, stepped back, and lifted her chin. “You will be crushed with the Republic and all the fools who bow down to the Jedi Council! No one can stand against the power of the Star Forge and the Sith fleet!”

Jas blinked as the Jedi--turned-Dark-Lord’s-Apprentice spun on her heel and ran away.

…

At least it didn’t take long for Jas to find her again. This time, Jas ordered Carth to land on the Star Factory instead of a neighbouring planet, and Jas went off the Save the Galaxy, just like Revan would.

But first, the damsel in distress.

“Revan. I knew you’d come for me,” Bastila said. “Again.”

Jas had tracked her down, sitting in meditative pose in the centre of a ceremonial chamber. The Star Factory was a bit weird, with all of its walkways and droids and chambers. It made Jas long for the simplicity of a heavy cruiser or star destroyer.

 _Freighter,_ his mind said. _Freighters are what I’m used to._

Bastila put up another fight, which went much the same as the earlier one. Jas was almost totally convinced she wasn’t faking her crap combat, now.

“Turn away from Malak, Bastila,” Jas said at one point. “You are the one who always believed the Dark Side is not stronger than the Light!”

“I- I am no match for you,” she admitted. “Revan-”

Tears ran down her cheeks. Regret clouded her beautiful brown eyes. Her red lips trembled as she stared soulfully at him.

And Jas remembered Canderous’ smart-mouthed comment-

_Jas couldn’t even steal a kiss from Bastila-_

Frack it. If he was gonna face Malak again – and Jas just _knew_ Bastila would make him – then he may as well make this moment worthwhile. Jas stepped closer, snaked a hand behind her head, and pulled her forward to meet his kiss.

It was nice. It was _better_ than nice. Hot, gasping, fingers trailing against his neck, his hands carding through her short blonde hair as her sassy blue eyes said _it’s about fracking time-_

“Um-” Jasper pulled back, suddenly highly embarrassed that the famous Jedi in his arms had morphed into his childhood sweetheart. And yet, in his mind, Jaime hadn’t been wearing the humble clothes of a farmer. A uniform, an officer’s, stripes of a general on her shoulders-

“Revan,” Bastila whispered, her face dreamy.

Jasper took a step back.

“I have to go face Malak,” Jas muttered, his shame melting like an ice cone in the sun. _We’re both thinking of someone else,_ he realized with a pang of regret _._ “You’d better do your- your thing-”

“Battle Meditation,” Bastila said, blinking, her face turning serious once more. “Yes. I will stay here in this chamber and use my Battle Meditation to aid the Republic Fleet. I am their only hope of destroying the Star Forge and ending the Sith menace.”

She touched his face briefly. “You must go and face Malak.”

There was confidence in Bastila’s face; pride and hope directed at him. Jas let those emotions warm him, even as he thought: _how the frack do I take on Darth Malak and live?_

When he looked back at all that’d happened since he signed on to the Republic, Jas felt a bewildering sense of accomplishment. It seemed like everything had been gathering momentum for this point; every fight, every conversation, every little step along the way.

Maybe the Force led him here. Maybe the Jedi were right about some things, even if Jas thought they might be wrong about others.

Still, he had a super-villain to fight and, somehow, defeat.

_Fake it ‘til you make it, Jas._

Jas smiled at Bronn’s voice in his mind. He could do that. He’d been doing it for so long already.

…

Jas felt an unbearable sadness when he looked upon the corpse of the galaxy’s greatest supervillain.

He couldn’t kid himself any longer, not really. He knew what it meant.

Jas sighed. _I actually **am** a Jedi. _ Canderous would have felt glee at such a victory; Carth a sense of righteousness. All Jas felt was grief as he continued to stare at Malak’s dead face. Like, maybe, in a different universe, he and Malak could’ve been best buddies instead of on opposite sides of a war.

_Yep. I’m definitely a Jedi. They kinda know how to felt crap about everything, don’t they?_

The fight had been long, and bloody, and difficult. Fighting with a blaster hadn't been an option, so Jas had been forced to wield the pink monstrosity again.

It had felt… natural. Maybe, all those times he’d sparred against Bastila, some if it had actually been his own skill. Or, maybe, he’d found that pretending to be Revan was the key to everything.

Jas sighed again, and slowly got to his feet. Distantly, he was aware that everything hurt like a schutta, but he also knew the klaxons wailing through Malak’s factory were a Bad Thing.

_Darth Malak is dead. Darth Revan is dead. What in the Outer Rim do I do now?_

Jas had no idea.

He thought he’d start by getting off the Star Factory and finding a drink.

…

Jas didn’t really understand how he’d ended up a Republic hero, but he knew it had almost everything to do with the face he saw in the mirror. Bastila had a yearning look in her eyes whenever they met, and Jas just knew what Bronn would urge him to do-

_She’s a famous Jedi, Jas! You saved her from Malak! She’s all soft and vulnerable and has the eyes for you, all you have to do is-_

Jas tried. He tried to make a life with Bastila, for a time. But it felt empty. Full of ash.

He would close his eyes, and see sassy Jaime. Jaime, his farmer girl, even if she’d looked totally hot in that imaginary general outfit-

In his mind, Bronn gave a derisive snort. _Take what’s there, and learn to enjoy it. Fake it ‘til you make it, Jas. Fake it ‘til you make it._

Give _Bronn_ a metal jaw, and he’d look a bit like Malak, himself. Everyone had a doppelganger, somewhere out there.

It was a curse, Jas thought, wearing the face of a dead Sith Lord. Free drinks round the galaxy, sure; but even your own mind started playing tricks on you.

Jas knocked back another drink. He’d taken a real liking to Corellian whiskey, now. Revan’s usual. Maybe they had more in common than the ability to command the Force. Jas didn’t know, didn’t think he ever would.

But he wasn’t sticking around here.

If there was one thing joining the Republic war effort had taught him, it was that the galaxy was a large place. Bronn had been right about the adventures, at least. And Jas was starting to find that adventure, maybe, called to him as much as it had to his old mate.

 _I’ll get out of Republic space, though. Maybe the Outer Rim Territories. Maybe further. Maybe even the Unknown Regions._ Find another adventure. Find a woman who didn’t make him think of Jaime when he kissed her.

Maybe, find something worth fighting for again.

…

_Sixteen years earlier…_

On a forgotten Outer Rim planet, two homeless teenagers stared at a tattered Republic holo-poster that had somehow found its way to the furthest reaches of the galaxy.

“We should join,” one said, nudging the other. “Bet the Fleet has hotter babes than here.”

“What do we know about soldiering, Alek?” the other asked.

“Not like there’s any war going on.” The first one shrugged. “Fake it ‘til you make it, Rev. It sure beats hanging around here.”

Many metres behind them, a weary Jedi Master who had travelled much farther than she planned, stopped to stare at the two, and realized that the Force had led her here for a reason.

* * *

~ends~

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of a Revan going through the KotOR plot, and a whole bunch of sentients recognizing him/her, came from kosiah. So, in a sense, this fic is completely her fault.
> 
> It's not written at all like my massive KotOR saga _Identities of a lost soul_ \- instead, this has been an experiment in trying a completely different writing style. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading it :-)


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